Everything Burns
by Honestly That Never Happened
Summary: Kanda Yuu was pretty damn sure that baby-sitting the damned brat wasn't a part of the job description. It's not like he was the one to kidnap the Bean Sprout. Rated T, rating will most definitely go up. Yullen. Dark themes, and future Allen!Torture, AU
1. Cellar Door

Allen Walker woke up startled. Many, _many _things did not seem right at the moment.

First of all, the last place he remembers being at was Jerry's Bistro, and then leaving to walk home. Secondly, even if he _did_ manage to walk home, he seriously doubted that he would have slept upright. And even if by some crazy chance _did_ manage to sleep upright, he's pretty sure that his hands wouldn't be hanging limply on either side of him.

Blinking to adjust his eyesight to the darkness, he quickly scanned the room, but found only one bulky bolted door. The sixteen-year-old tried to remain calm, since this very well might have been just a ..a dream! Of course. This was all just a bad dream that he might wake up from soon.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breathe. Waiting for what he thought might have been two or three minutes, gray eyes disappointedly met with the same sight dark sight. Certainly not his bedroom.

He jerked forward, but metallic restraints pulled him back to the brick wall. _'No! This.. this has to be a dream!'_

Allen struggled to get free from the shackles but every time he thrashed or pulled on the chains, the cold steel of the hand cuffs dug into his skin, causing him to cry out in pain. Silent tears soon blinded his vision as he violently continued to struggle against the bindings. All efforts proved to be fruitless.

He eventually let out a shaky breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and slunk against the wall, partly in pain, and partly in exhaustion. The cuffs had chafed his wrists, and drawn blood. The smell of his own blood was enough to make him feel overly nauseous, but the damp, rotting smell only made him feel even more nauseated.

Choking back more tears, Allen lifted his head to get a better look at the room he was in. But after noticing roots dangling from the ceiling, and breathing in the cold, damp air, realization began to sink in. He wasn't in a room—he was in a cellar, underground.

Breathing became difficult at the thought of being stuck in a cellar for the rest of his life.

Panic set in once again and his struggles to break free became even more desperate and violent than before. But it all ended the same way. With pain and exhaustion. Except this time he was in more pain and his asthma had started acting up, cutting his breaths short.

He slid down the brick wall painfully, his hands hanging high above his head, trapped in the cuffs. Allen was too afraid to look up at his sleeves, in fear of seeing them stained red with his blood.

Allen continued to wheeze agonizingly, momentarily forgetting how to breathe.

Then he heard it. The sound of the door being unbolted. Gray eyes widened in not only shock, but also in fear.

He had completely forgotten about one thing. If he was down here.. and he didn't remember how he exactly got.. here, then it could have only meant one thing.

Someone had brought him down here.

And that said someone, was returning now.

* * *

Kanda Yuu was fucking pissed. Of all the things that could possibly happen, why did he have to look after the stupid kid that they were hired to kidnap? The last time he checked, he was sure that _that_ wasn't part of the job description.

He barely did anything except maybe drug the kid, so why did _he_ have to babysit the brat? It's not like that damned Bean Sprout was going to go anywhere either way. They were underground for fuck's sake!

He scoffed at the thought. Even if by some miracle the little brat did manage to break free from the chains—which he really doubted he could, since yours truly was the one to cuff the brat—how would he escape? Especially past all the big ape's waiting for the chance to knock the shit out of the kid if he even tried such a thing. Besides, the kid seemed ..dainty, for a lack of a better word. He looked like he was easy to snap in half, almost like a twig.

The kid was just a stupid Bean Sprout, after all.

"Tch. Fucking higher ups better be damn hopeful that I don't fucking kill the kid myself." Kanda seethed.

With his head held high and katana in hand, he took the stairs that lead to an empty hallway, with three doors present. He stopped short at the large, bolted door and began to unlock it. Mumbling under his breath and cursing at whoever made the door so difficult to unlock, the lean Japanese man finally managed to unbolt the door.

But, stayed rooted to the spot when he heard loud wheezing.

_'The pay _so_ better be fucking worth it. Or so help me, I'll fucking slaughter everyone in this house.'_

He took one step forward and pulled the door open.

_'Starting with the stupid Bean Sprout.'_

* * *

AHAHAHAHAH. Yeah, uh. Hi there. The first thing I'm really kind of posting up here so.. WHYHALLOTHAR. (Insert heart here)

Right. Feel free to review, flame, whatever. At this point, I don't really know what to expect. :D

Now, as Ricky would say, "You got sum 'splainin to do!"

At first, when I started writing this, I thought about starting it off where Allen left the restuarant and got kidnapped, but I quite like it like this. Funner for me, probably, maybe, more confusing for you. 8D

..I like angst-y stories. What else is there to explain? XD Sorry if Allen's a bit OOC. You'd be scared shitless too to find out you were kidnapped. D:

Also, the rating will most definitely go up if I decide to deflower Allen. And there's definitely going to be more angst. And Yullen. And maybe Lucky if I'm feeling up for it. Expect dark themes. But also a few funny bits in between. And stuff.

And as a disclaimer, no I don't own -Man, Katsura Hoshino does. If I did, Allen would be constantly tortured and Kanda would show up and be his.. um, knight with a shining katana? Or something like that. Just know that it would be twisted.

Until next time~


	2. Bean Sprout

Allen had quite literally, seen his life flash before his eyes. He never expected it to literally _flash_, though. And he never even got a chance to ask his best friend, Lenalee Lee, to the school dance. Or, learn how to deal with Cross without ending up in debts..**.**

..Or maybe that _wasn't_ his life flashing before his eyes, but the bright light coming from the newly opened door.

With a loud creak, the door was shut as quickly as it had been thrust open.

Frozen with fear, Allen continued to stare at—well, _towards—_the cellar door. He didn't move, didn't breathe, or even blink. Not like he actually _could _at the moment.

He just stared.

What was going to happen now? Was he going to die? Maybe be tortured, perhaps? Compared to what he thought might happen, Allen would rather work his ass off to pay all of his Guardian's debts. Well, not like he didn't do that already. He didn't really ..have much of a choice.

Ill thoughts continued to spiral and work their way through his mind, singling out different possibilities of the scenario. And from what he could assume, none of them would end well.

His train of thought was interrupted by the sound of boots coming closer. Before he could even blink, said boots were standing right in front of him.

Allen slowly raised his head to see the face of his captor. The man's face was scrunched up in an angry expression, adorned with a frown. The sixteen-year-old could easily tell that the man was oriental. His hair, Allen noted, appeared to be long, raven-colored silky strands, tied up in one simple pony tail.

..How could someone who was seemingly evil, look so..**.**

Allen hissed involuntarily as some pressure was applied to his wounded wrists.

"Stupid brat, serves you right. What the hell were you trying to do? _Escape_?" The raven-haired man scoffed. "As if a little Bean Sprout like you could get free."

"_B-bean Sprout?!_" Although it hadn't been intended, Allen's voice came out hoarse and uneven. He coughed at the pain that appeared in the back of his throat.

The man glared coldly, "I wouldn't be talking back to me, if I were you, _Bean Sprout_." He unsheathed his katana, and even though the cellar was dark, he could still see the faint sheen on the sword. "I could easily enough kill you, if you so much as piss me off."

The statement was completely, and utterly false. If he were to kill the kid, the Order would most likely kill _him_, even if he was one of their best_._ Though, he was allowed to mess with the kid, as far as he knew. And scare him a little.

But, there was something about the brat that made it easy to actually _feel_ pity for him. Not that he would, considering he'd been trained thoroughly not to display such emotions. Anger and apathy were really the only emotions he knew, anyway.

What the swordsman couldn't believe was how stupid the brat had been. Trying to escape to the point where he was physically hurt and exhausted? What good would _that_ do?

He mentally 'tched. He'd give the kid some credit for trying, but that was it. Now he'd probably have to actually clean the stupid brats wounds so he wouldn't get an infection and risk dying from something outrageously ridiculous like that.

The higher ups in the Order had expressed themselves very simply that they needed the kid alive. Why they would "need" the kid in the first place was beyond him. Honestly, did the Order need more funds? Did they need to take a hostage just to get a few million dollars, or something?

Really, now. This whole mission seemed stupid, and it didn't make much sense.

Then again, that may have been because he ignored his supervisor during the briefing and just glared coldly at everyone and everything. But, really? This was just a _kid, _after all. How old was he? _Twelve_? Maybe the Order was just losing it's touch.

He turned his attention back to the Bean Sprout when he heard that annoying wheezing again.

There was the kid, wheezing and coughing, looking even more so pathetic then he had been when he'd first stepped into the cellar.

"What the hell, kid?" The swordsman nudged the hostage with his foot. "You sick?"

Allen glared—or at least attempted to—and turned away.

The swordsman rolled his dark-colored eyes.

"Nice try, but you can't glare for shit. Now seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Weren't the captors supposed to, well, _not_ care about their hostages? What was with this guy? He was doing it _all_ wrong. It's not like Allen had been in this type of situation before, but he was definitely sure the captor was supposed to be a cold-hearted bastard, who wasn't supposed to actually _care_ if he was hurt, or sick.. or even care _at all._

_'Well, he's got the cold-hearted bastard part down quite nicely.' _Allen thought dryly.

The wheezing grew faint, and Allen was finally able to breathe regularly. But that didn't stop the swordsman from questioning him. He just tried to ignore him.

Like _that_ would actually work.

The Japanese man, in fact, _hated _when he was ignored. His pride saw it as an immense sign of disrespect, and it irked him in more than one way.

He grabbed the brat's wounded wrists by the fabric of the brat's sleeves in a tight grip, applying more pressure as he spoke each word.

He clenched his teeth. "I asked you a simple question, brat. What. The. Hell. Was. That?"

Allen's first reaction would be to gasp in pain, but he refused to in front of this man. For all he knew, the swordsman could get some sick kind of pleasure out of it.

The dark haired man was surprised, not that he'd let it show, but he was. Usually, once he'd step within a five-foot radius of a person, _and_ threaten then, they'd start begging for their lives, but this kid.. the kid just freaking ignored him, like he _wasn't_ actually in pain. Even though it was pretty damn obvious that he was.

He finally relinquished his hold on the brat's wrists and mumbled under his breath, something having to do with the "stupid Bean Sprout" and his katana—Mugen.

His long, dark hair whipped around harshly as he headed towards the door, kicked it open, and slammed it angrily shut—the door nearly falling off of its hinges. Still mumbling incoherently as he left.

Allen had let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, and for some reason, he felt calmer—but still in a certain amount of pain. His wrists were throbbing, and it was getting harder and harder not to shed anymore unnecessary tears.

He had to figure out a way to get out—and quickly at that, because he was sure that the swordsman would return soon. Only God knows what would happen then.

* * *

If Kanda had been royally pissed before, hell hath no fury now. This time, he just wanted to grab the nearest person's neck, and strangle them. One could almost feel the murderous intent radiating off of him.

Sure, Kanda had a short temper. But he was pretty sure it wasn't _that_ short.

Short. Like that _stupid _Bean Sprout. He'd remember first seeing him at that restaurant, his first few thoughts about him were his wonderings of where the brat's parents were, (They were probably stupid, too.) and the kid's shortness.

Oh, great.

Now he was thinking about that stupid brat and all of his pathetic-ness. He wanted nothing to do with him. Kanda just wanted to either get rid of him, or finish the stupid mission and get his pay.

..Then maybe he'd be able to finally help her.

He gritted his teeth and walked up the staircase into a dimly lit corridor.

He'd been getting distracted from his goal. The only reason he joined the _Black Order _in the first place, was to save up enough money, to save his own sister. But every now and then, he'd find joy in his missions.

Except this one.

He still didn't understand why the order would need or for that matter, want, a measly kid.

Kanda stopped walking down the corridor, and stood in front of old wooden door. Turning the knob slowly, his sight was met with his sister, lying on a simple bed, surrounded by different types of medical equipment.

He frowned. Kanda only wanted to make sure that she was still breathing, and since she was, he had no other reason for being there.

It was his fault that she turned out to be like that, if he hadn't been so _stupid_ all those years ago..**.**

His thoughts of self-loathing vanished when he had realized that he had already closed the door and began walking down the stairs again, soon finding himself standing in front of a familiar cellar door.

Quietly he stood in front the door, with a mysterious glint in his eyes, before smirking and disappearing down the same hallway.

Even if he particularly hated this mission, maybe he could find some _joy_ in it.

But, he would save his fun.. for later. The Bean Sprout wasn't going to be going anywhere for the next three days, either way.

That'd be more than enough time to break him down.

* * *

Marian Cross was usually not one to worry about his idiotic adopted son.

But considering the fact that it had been—or so he guesses, since he can't entirely remember—twenty hours the last time he saw him.. well, something might have happened. He'd usually be home, frolicking ..or whatever the hell teenagers did these days.

Cross took another swig of his wine, reclining on the sofa.

Maybe the kid had done him a favor by offing himself. He'd have less bills to pay, and such.

But then again, who would clean and cook for him?

He put down the bottle of wine on the coffee table before standing up to grab his keys from the dining room.

For whatever reason he had, Marian Cross believed that things were suddenly going to be more complicated than usual.

"Damn teenagers." He mumbled, lighting up a cigarette before starting the car.

* * *

WHYHITHARAGAIN.

No, I didn't die yet, surprisngly enough.

Not a very eventful chapter, but now that I have this bit out of the way, I can start writing Kanda's actual ill intent for Allen. +3+

YAY. 8D!

*COUGHCOUGH* ..I didn't say anything. Psh.

So overall, this doesn't have too much angst. Practically none, in my opinion. But just wait until Leverrier and the Noah's are introduced. MUAH--*COUGH*

Also, sorry for the lack of angst, this chapter was kind of normal/awkward/whatever the hell it is. Allen angst, torture, some dark Yullen, probably some lucky, dark scenes in general, rainbows, sugar, and pocky, will all begin in a few chapters. Okay, excluding the rainbows, sugar, and pocky.

Because the pocky is mine. MINNNE. OMNOMNOM. x3 *COUGH*

..I need to get that, uh, cough checked out.

Anyway, I apologize in advance if it's a while until my next update. I have finals and an SAT II in a week, and I need to study my ass off, or until my eyes start bleeding. Whatever comes first.

And I also apologize for the confusion. (If there is anyway, which there probably is..)

But the whole, kidnapping-of-Allen-and-Order-thing should be explained within the next few chapters.

However, Kanda's sister, will be left alone for a while, since her major scenes will be later on in the story, when she kind of won't be comatose. (I know an OC. OMGZNUIWILLKEELZYOUZ!!!1)

Just know that all will be explained in due time.

**ANDDD, a huge thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, alerted, read and viewed this fanfic! ;_;**

Hopefully I replied to all of your reviews, if I didn't, feel free to totally smash my head in with a keyboard. :D

Without you guys, I would have scrapped this a long time ago.

**Again, as a disclaimer, I don't own DGM. If I did, every guy would be gay. Except for the Earl, 'cause I don't know if gigantic marshmallows have guy parts. :x**

Feedback would be nice. And I don't mind critiques, either. I want to improve! So yeah, if you have any suggestions too, just drop me a PM. PM's are made of funtasticness.

Until next time~ (Whenever that is.)


	3. Detours

Rays of early sunshine peaked through the slightly parted curtains.

There, behind a mahogany desk sat a large man, with an eerie smile. He usually was not one for morning appointments, but this call had been interesting. _Very_, interesting.

It had appeared that the Order had already captured the boy, much sooner than he would have expected them to.

Oh yes, things were definitely going in the right direction.

The man he had sent to spy on the Order, had informed him of what they were planning. In a matter of three days, the boy would be moved elsewhere. More than likely, the actual headquarters.

Now all he had to do was to decide whether it would be wise to let them take the boy to the headquarters, and find out where the headquarters were, or to just take the boy into his own hands.

..It would be more interesting with the latter choice.

The large man leaned back in his chair, and folded his hands, eyes gleaming even though it was morning.

Hm. He supposed it would be much more _fun_ taking the boy.

He slowly picked up the phone from the desk and dialed the number to one of his 'children'.

The eerie smile widened further.

* * *

Allen had drifted from unconsciousness to consciousness every few hours. He assumed it was an aftereffect of what he had been drugged by.

Through the random lapses of consciousness, he remembers seeing a man with olive-colored skin and dark hair. Though, he could have been just imagining it. He honestly doesn't know anymore.

Maybe the darkness was just getting to him. It almost felt like it was constantly night, it _was_ always dark. But he realized that it couldn't be that, because that's not how the sun worked. There just wasn't any windows.

It almost like time was standing still. It seemed too surreal. The only sound he heard was his own harsh breathing, and the only movement was his own.

Was he left here to die? Would he just finally stop breathing, even die from the lack of air?

He had long given up crying or trying to escape. As much as he just _loved_ to cut deeper into the wounds on his wrists, he was too tired and in too much pain.

He gave up on screaming for help, too. His throat had gone completely raw, and there was just no point.

If someone was going to help him, he figured it would happened a long time ago. Then again, he doesn't even know how much time had passed. Had it been a few hours, maybe days? What if he had been here for weeks?

He had no idea. He did wake occasionally with some food next to him. Just bread and water, but he supposed it was better than nothing. Even though there _was_ the possibility of it being poisoned.

But he really didn't care anymore. He just wanted to be out of there. And if poisoning was the only way, then so be it.

Allen had grown more and more apathetic to it all as the time slipped past his fingers.

..What did he ever do to get into this mess, anyway?

He closed his eyes once more, waiting for it to finally be over.

But the feeling in his gut told him that it wasn't going to be over for a long time.

* * *

Marian Cross was not having a very enjoyable time looking for his brat. He had looked everywhere for the kid. Although, he admits he shouldn't have taken a very _minor detour_ at that one bar, but it was all for the greater good.

..Or not. But hey, he needed to stay awake in order to find the kid. So what better way to stay awake than a nice _few _bottles of hard liquor early in the morning—or rather, _too_ fucking early in the morning.

He finally drove around to _Jerry's Bistro_, where Allen worked. It was probably the last place he could have been last night. Unless it was his day off or something, but it's not like Cross paid any attention to that, either way.

The car screeched to a stop in front of the restaurant and Cross practically stormed through the place, picking up a glass of wine from one of the serving carts as he went on his way to what he assumed would be the kitchen.

When he was finally in the kitchen, and not the _women's restroom—_which was an honest mistake, _really—_he yanked the oddly-dressed chef by his hair and demanded to know where his brat was. Of course, it slipped Cross's mind that he wasn't even supposed to be in the kitchen of a restaurant in the first place.

"I'm sorry, _sir_, but you're not allowed in here unless you're an employee." The odd chef grabbed his braid from the redhead and pushed him out of the kitchen and back into the main part of the restaurant.

Cross was not amused. "I don't _fucking _care if I'm an employee or not. Where the _hell_ is the brat?!"

"I don't know who you're talking about."

The angry redhead pulled a stool-chair from the bar. "About _this_ tall. White hair. Freaky scar on his face. Practically a damn _girl._"

A flash of acknowledgment passed through Jerry's eyes. "Oh! You mean that darling, Allen."

"_Finally_. Now where the hell is he?" He asked in frustration.

"Is that _alcohol_, you wreak of, _sir?_"

He slammed his hand on the bar, directing many of the customers attention towards him.

"_I don't care._ I've been looking for the kid for the past eight hours since he never came home." Cross yanked Jerry up by his apron, causing two of the employees to come staggering out to help their so-called boss.

"Never came home? Sweet little Allen went home though."

Cross finally calmed down enough to let go of Jerry.

Jerry continued. "Well, he wasn't feeling well, so his handsome little friend helped him home."

Cross quirked a brow. "Handsome? You mean it was a _guy?_"

"A very _handsome_ guy." Jerry replied dreamily.

"Ugh." Cross left the restaurant, ignoring the curious glances, and strode back to his car.

"Great. He doesn't even have any_ guy_ friends." Cross started the car, and sped off in another direction.

"I'll just have to get _another_ kind of help." He grumbled.

This was all just freaking _peachy. _

Really.

* * *

...AHAHAHAH. I really have no right to continue this now. Honestly, not updating it for so long was awful of me.

I can't even begin to apologize enough. I basically lost ALL inspiration writing this, and now suddenly here I am. Back again.

Oh hi..

I'm sorry for cutting you guys off like that.

I mean, I know how it feels when I start to get into something and then. BAM! It just kind of falls apart or disappears.

I should have at least mentioned that I was going on an undefinite hiatus or SOMETHING.

But no, I just left you hanging.

I mean, sure, life was pretty bat shit through those months, but I don't think it was a good enough excuse to stop writing this.

I mean sure, I ended up in the ER a few times, and earned half a year of physical therapy, YET AGAIN. But still. Ugh. I'm horrible.

I can't promise you much with this, I don't know how regularly I'll be updating or when. Just sort of winging it all at this point.

At least I know where I'm heading with this story.

Really, really am sorry.

But I have no idea whats going to happen from this point on.. and I don't mean with the story.

Thanks for those who checked out the story so far, and were trying to stick with watching it.

I completely understand those of you who've dropped it. I would too, believe me.

~Honestly That Never Happened


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